


No Place in Heaven

by The_lazy_eye



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Closeted Character, I'm not sure if its actually canon divergent, Internalized Homophobia, It Still Happened, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Slurs, assumed one sided attraction, they're roughly 16 in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 17:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15151856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: So this is it, huh? This is how he dies? With his hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, on his knees deep in the Barrens? He can feel the chest rattling with each desperate attempt to bring air into his lungs.Mother fucker.





	No Place in Heaven

So this is it, huh? This is how he dies? With his hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, on his knees deep in the Barrens? He can feel the chest rattling with each desperate attempt to bring air into his lungs.

_Mother fucker._

Why the fuck did he even come out here? It was basically a suicide mission. Well, mission isn’t the right word. This was never a mission. This was just him, in a panic fueled haze trying to outrun his own demons. And did he outrun them? No, he fucking didn’t. They fucking caught him, pushed him to his hands and knees, and stole all of the air out of his lungs. And now he was going to die.

“I can’t… believe… I was this… FUCKING stupid!” he all but screams into the night sky, tears running down his face and his breathing getting shallower and shallower. His inhaler is a few feet in front of him, laying where he threw it in a fit of frustration after realizing it was empty. His emotional state is doing nothing to ease the pressure in his chest. The panic he felt when he climbed out of his window and bolted down the street has been replaced with dread and anger. Dread over his inevitable, asthma induced death and anger over his own stupidity. Did he really think he could outrun this? Did he really think he could outrun himself?

When he was 12 he thought he could do anything. He took on a demonic, shape shifting clown. He took on his demonic, manipulative mother. He was basically the kid version of John McClane. Sonia wouldn’t let him go see Die Hard when it came out at the Aladdin but Richie had told him all about it. A rugged cop who took on all of the bad guys and saved the day. That was him, Eddie Kaspbrak, the boy who took on all of his own demons and won.

Where was that kid version of John McClane now? Certainly, he couldn’t be on his hands and knees in the dirt, losing energy from trying to choke down air, vision blurring around his peripherals. No, this wasn’t kid John McClane. This was just Eddie Kaspbrak, dying of a fake asthma attack.

Exhausted and still wheezing he collapsed to his side, rolling in the dirt to face the stars above him. The Barrens were so dark at night and the sky was just so clear. He could see every single star above him. If he wasn’t so focused on gasping in whatever air he could manage he would think it’s beautiful. He would remember all of the other times he was on his back down here, staring up at the sky and naming all of the constellations he could remember from that book Ben kept in his room.

He had almost calmed down enough for his breathing to even out just slightly. It was almost a fond memory until he remembered who he was with every single time he came down to this place late at night. Who he crawled out of his window to see. Who held his hand every time he felt the panic creep up into this throat. Who talked him through his nightmares, his faded, fucked up memories. Who made the air both rush into and straight back out of his lungs with a single smile and a quip of, “Had any good chucks lately, Eds?”

Eddie let his eyes slip closed. There was almost a sense of peace, now. All of the previous anger and fear he felt coursing through his veins had dissipated. If he just let it happen, if he just let his breath fade into the cool night air maybe he could finally be at peace.

It was quiet in the Barrens. The only sound before had been his frustrated, choked out sobs and the wheeze of his lungs. Now it was just the quiet wheeze of his lungs, but even that felt like it was fading away into the darkness. What was even the reason he came down here?

Oh, right.

Richie.

Richie and stupid his dark curls, his stupid bug eyes under his coke bottle glasses. His stupid “chucks” and his never-ending trash mouth running and running and running, faster than Eddie ever could. God, Eddie wishes he could run that fast and long, maybe he could run right out of Derry and never look back. He would never have to see those piercing blue eyes ever again. But Richie would always haunt him. Even now he swears he can hear Richie, talking on and on about some stupid show he saw or the latest comic he swiped from Freese’s Department Store. He can almost hear him, he can almost make out what he’s saying.

When he feels someone grab his shoulders and force him to sit up that he realizes maybe he isn’t alone. He briefly considers that maybe this is what it’s like to finally die. Maybe IT’s come back for him, lifting him up from the ground at his most vulnerable to swallow him whole. Maybe this is the feeling of his soul being ripped out of his body only to be dragged down to Hell. There’s no spot in heaven for boys like him.

There’s no room in heaven for boys who like boys.

It isn’t until he feels the press of something cold and plastic against his lip and feels the puff of cold camphor down his throat that he understands he isn’t going to die here. IT hasn’t come for him. His soul isn’t being sent to the underworld. His lungs immediately expand and he hears himself instinctively gasp air right into them. The sudden rush of air makes him cough and choke and forces him to roll back onto his stomach, scrambling to clutch at his chest and try to find some purchase with his knees. He doesn’t find it and instead falls face first into the dirt. He tastes the earth on his tongue and teeth and lips but fuck it, he doesn’t even care. He spends the next few minutes gasping and chocking and coughing on nothing, nearly throwing up his dinner.

He doesn’t even realize there are hands running soothing down his spine and a soft voice in his ear until he hears his name.

“Hey, it’s okay Eds just breath, in and out yeah just like always man. Don’t worry I’m right here. I’ve got your inhaler and I’ve got you and it’s gonna be okay buddy. Yeah, just breath. In and out. You can do it. Just like always. Deep breaths Eds, come on- “

Holy fucking shit has he been talking this entire time?

Eddie has no idea and frankly he’s too exhausted to care. When he’s done coughing what’s left of his lungs up into the dirt he settles there, face down and on his stomach. He doesn’t dare turn around and look Richie in the eyes. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s Richie. He just knows. He knows that voice, he knows that touch. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, Richie’s hands smoothing his shirt over his back, his voice soft and comforting instead of loud and abrasive. No, this is too good right now. He might hate himself later but he just wants to enjoy this.

He feels his body slow down for the second time that night and thinks that maybe he could fall asleep like this. Now that Richie is here, though, he knows that won’t fly. If Eddie dares to show any signs of stillness Richie will rip him straight up off the ground to make sure he hasn’t gone and died on him right here in the Barrens.

Eventually, he finds the strength to push himself up and turn over onto his back. It takes another few seconds of mental encouragement to get into a seated position, but Richie’s hands help him there, pulling him up off the ground and helping him settle into a hunched position with his legs out in front of him. They stay there like that, silent, for a few minutes. Eddie can feel Richie’s eyes burning a hole into his face but Eddie looks anywhere but there. If he looks at Richie who knows what’s going to happen. Maybe his lungs will constrict for good and he’ll actually die.

Unfortunately, Richie doesn’t give either of them the option of staying there, silent like that. Richie never could hand silences. He always had to break them up. Eddie had expected him to be loud, like he always was. Yelling at Eddie and making some kind of crass joke about letting him know the house was going to be empty so he could go bang Eddie’s mom.

“Are you okay, Eds?” comes out softly, instead. Richie doesn’t have to say it for Eddie to know he was worried sick. Hell, Eddie would feel the same way if he found Richie lying on his back in the Barrens half dead.

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. A beat of nothingness passes between them before Eddie chances a look at Richie. He’s only about a foot away from Eddie and is all wide eyes and his bottom lip is being practically chewed through by his teeth. Eddie has only seen this look in the safety of darkness, whether it’s one of their rooms or here, in the Barrens.

It was always going to be the Barrens, wasn’t it?

“Yeah.” It comes out like a whisper. It’s not exactly a lie. Eddie is okay, now. He wasn’t before but Richie doesn’t need to know that.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 2 in the fucking morning?” comes back almost immediately.

“I could ask you the same thing, dumbass.”

Its natural, the banter between them. It you didn’t look closely enough no one would be able to tell that Richie was shaking and Eddie was deflecting.

Another beat of silence passes between them. At this point Eddie is practically radiating nervous energy. He can feel the panic rising up in his chest again. He can feel this burning itch to defuse the situation. He wants to get onto his feet and run as fast as he can. That won’t solve anything though. All that will do is put an even bigger elephant in the room next time he sees Richie. Plus, running didn’t really work out so well the first time.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Eddie considers this. He could. He could tell Richie exactly what happened that led them to this moment. He had dinner with his mother and climbed the stairs to his room, a pretty normal evening. Things took a turn for the worse when Eddie settled into bed for the night. More and more often he can’t sleep. He finds himself up late and night thinking and thinking and thinking. He thinks about the sewers and the clown and the bodies of all of the dead children. He thinks about the Leper and his proposal.

He thinks about how he wouldn’t mind such a proposal from Richie.

He thinks about Richie sleeping over, sharing the bed like they always do. He thinks about how they wake up in the mornings all tangled up but never talk about it. He thinks about all of the side glances, the arms around the shoulders, the relentless teasing. He thinks about Richie’s endless flirting, with him and with all of the girls in their high school.

It burns him up inside knowing that Richie has kissed Angela Knobs behind the school bleachers and then bragged about it at lunch. It burns him up knowing he will never be Angela Knobs behind the school bleachers, wrapped in Richie’s arms with the feeling of Richie’s lips on his. They’ll never intentionally tangle beneath the sheets. They’ll never wrap up in each other. Richie will never lace their fingers together and bring Eddie’s hand up to his lips. They can never have that and if Richie ever found out he wanted something like this he would turn away in disgust. He, and everyone else, would cast Eddie aside if they knew he really was the sissy little girly boy faggot that Bowers called him all those years ago. God, and they all defended him, too.

Eddie considers telling Richie that’s why he crawled through his window in a fit of panic. Eddie is everything he never wanted to be and he can’t escape from it.

There’s no room in heaven for boys who like boys.

“I had a nightmare.” He lies. Its short, simple, and very believable. It wouldn’t be the first time one of their merry band of Losers had an Earth-shaking nightmare. Richie is surprisingly quiet for a moment. This seems to be the theme of the night. Beats of uneasy silence passing between them. Eddie worries that Richie doesn’t believe him, that he’s going to push Eddie until the truth comes spilling from his lips. It never comes.

“Why didn’t you come get me? You know my window is always unlocked.” Richie’s voice is quiet again, gentle. There’s a hint of something hiding behind it. When Eddie looks at Richie again his bottom lip is no longer between his teeth and his eyes are no longer wide. Instead, Richie is wearing the expression of someone Eddie only ever sees in the comfort of night. His brows are furrowed slightly and his lips have turned into a small frown. His nose crinkles, only a twitch, before relaxing.

_I didn’t come get you because I’m in love with you._

Another lie falls easily from his lips, “I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking.”

Richie’s hand is still on Eddie’s arm, searing into his skin, and he’s still only a foot away from him, but his expression drops to something akin to gentle.

“You scared me,” comes out of Richie, cracked and quiet. If Eddie wasn’t so focused on everything _Richie Richie Richie_ he would have missed it. It almost break’s his heart. He feels himself breaking into a million tiny pieces, floating up into the sky. He almost wishes Richie had never found him. 

“I scare me, too.” He whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I suck at endings. Story planning? Never heard of her.
> 
> I sat down and wrote this in an hour. It is unedited and probably really choppy so I apologize for that!
> 
> First work for the IT fandom, third fan fiction ever created. I'm still trying to figure out my writing style and or if I even make anything remotely close to good works? Be the content you want to see in the world, right kids?
> 
> I really live for angst and I am a firm believer that not all angst requires a resolution, so you can be mad if you want. I would absolutely love feedback on this, positive and constructive. I'm a slut for validation and improvement.
> 
> Come talk to me at reddie-for-anything.tumblr.com!


End file.
